


Frank's Shitty Day

by dweetwise



Series: DbD Crackfics [4]
Category: Dead by Daylight (Video Game)
Genre: Awkward Flirting, Bi Disaster Frank, Crack, Dad Jeff, Dialogue Heavy, M/M, Sassy Quentin, Swearing, The Frank/Quentin is subtle but I promise it's there, because it's Frank
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-25
Updated: 2020-07-25
Packaged: 2021-03-04 22:33:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,736
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25443967
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dweetwise/pseuds/dweetwise
Summary: Frank is looking at an easy win on the familiar grounds of Ormond. His plans go ass up when he nearly gets eaten by a grizzly and is stuck cooperating with three annoying survivors if he wants to have any chance of surviving the trial. (crack)
Relationships: Frank Morrison/Quentin Smith
Series: DbD Crackfics [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1844227
Comments: 12
Kudos: 94





	Frank's Shitty Day

**Author's Note:**

> for a prompt about legion getting spooked by a real bear in a trial

Seeing the mist fade as he’s teleported into a trial, the familiar chilly mountain air seeps though Frank’s mask. He spins his knife and hums in content, glancing around at the grounds of the ski lodge he knows like the back of his hand.

“Fuck yeah, home advantage,” Frank grins to himself, starting the trek through the thin layer of snow towards the far side of the map where his annoying little survivor prey usually spawn.

He cuts through a jungle gym, slowing down once he spots something through the window. Is that a fucking fur jacket? Frank suppresses a snicker while imagining which of the survivor pricks the new outfit belongs to. Maybe bird boy wanted to look even more like a caveman? Or the sleazy gambler thought it’d go well with his trashy fucking sequin pants?

He doesn’t get any answers, as the person doesn’t seem to be moving, just crouching a ways off from the window trying to hide. He knows his heartbeat range is tiny, courtesy of the Doc’s teachings, so maybe the fucker has spine chill? Frank sidesteps the wall, walking backwards around the corner so as not to alert the skittish survivor.

“Hey fuckface, the 50′s called—” Frank taunts, finally turning around and raising his knife, ready to surprise the living shit out of the survivor.

Frank’s grin drops as he comes face to face _with a fucking bear holy fucking shit_! The bear growls before standing up on its hind legs and _roaring—_

Frank nearly shits his pants and scurries through the window in a frenzy, dropping his weapon while fumbling through the opening in a panic. He bolts out of the jungle gym, sprinting towards the other side of the map as fast as his legs will carry him.

His heart is pounding in his ears and he has no idea if the bear is following him. Frank braves a glance over his shoulder and—

“ _Shit_!”

—trips over some inconveniently placed rubble, landing flat on his face in the snow with his mask falling off from the impact and sliding away on the icy ground. Fuck! _Fuck_! Frank looks up, frantically trying to spot the animal chasing him, but ends up freezing from mortification instead.

Not even five feet to his side, three survivors are crouching beside a generator, having stopped dead in their repairs to stare at him with varying levels of disbelief. For a few painful seconds Frank just awkwardly stares back at the familiar faces of fellow Ormondian Jeff, that tired bitch, Quentin, and wannabe Oprah—Jane? The silence is uncomfortable as nobody moves a muscle, the only sound being the slow putter from the generator.

“AHAHAHAHAHA!” Quentin, the little shit, finally bursts out and actually doubles over from laughter beside the machine. Frank feels his rage flare up and _fuck that bitch is getting stabbed—_

“Hey kid, you alright?” Jeff offers and approaches Frank, extending a hand to help the other up. Frank snaps out of it and springs to his feet, reminded of the impending doom of the bear chasing him.

“Bear! BEAR!” Frank yells, grabbing the bearded man by the shoulders and shaking him violently.

“Stop insulting him, you homophobic piece of—” Jane starts angrily, forcefully yanking Frank off of the artist.

“No you dumb bitch, an actual grizzly! It almost fucking ate me!” Frank explains in panic, slapping at the woman’s arm until she lets him go.

“What the heck are you on about?” Jane demands, rubbing at her arm where Frank landed a decent punch.

“He’s probably tripping,” Quentin deadpans, having recovered from his laughing fit and now back on the generator. “You know, on more than his own feet,” he adds, snickering.

“Shut the _fuck_ up Smith—”

”Where did you see the bear?” Jeff asks with a serious tone, placing a calming hand on Frank’s shoulder. Frank recoils away from the touch in disgust.

”On the other side of the lodge, near… I think by the snow cannon,” Frank explains, wracking his panicked brain for information.

”Would you show me?” Jeff asks.

” _Hell_ no! I ain’t getting eaten!” Frank protests angrily.

”Like it’d want your skinny ass anyway,” Quentin quips. Frank whips around, ready to throw fists, when Jeff fucking _touches him again ugh—_

”We’ll try to spot it from the lodge balcony where it’s safe,” Jeff explains, reassuring hand on Franks bicep and shooting a warning look Quentin’s way.

”Jeff, why are you humoring him? Surely it’s a trap,” Jane demands, hands on her hips and giving Frank the stink eye.

”Can’t you see how scared he is?” Jeff argues.

”I’m not fucking _scared—_ ” Frank starts, blood boiling and face heating up in embarrassment.

“You guys work on the gens on this side while we check it out,” Jeff, again, interrupts his tantrum, leading Frank to the lodge with a strong grip on his arm. Frank doesn’t protest (much), kind of glad to be rid of the two bitches by the gen.

He follows Jeff to the second floor of the lodge, and soon they’re looking around for the bear from the balcony. Frank spots it, almost at the exact same location as before, frantically pulling on Jeff’s sleeve and pointing at the animal.

“Holy shit,” Jeff says, astonished. “Why did the Entity put a bear here?”

“I don’t fucking know! What the fuck are we gonna do? I can’t kill you _or_ the bear, I dropped my knife earlier!“ Frank rambles angrily.

“I don’t think you’re supposed to kill anything,” Jeff says, thoughtful. “You know, there’s only three of us in the trial today.”

Before Frank has an opportunity to demand what the fuck Jeff is on about, the man says something that makes his blood run cold:

”I think the bear is the killer. And you’re… a survivor.”

“Bull-fucking- _shit_ I’m a pussy survivor!” Frank protests angrily. “And even if I was—which I’m _not_ … why?”

“Entity parenting?” Jeff suggests. “It’s probably sick of you being a brat.”

“I fucking hate you,” Frank says, giving his dirtiest glare. “The second I get my knife back—”

“Sure kid,” Jeff says and has the audacity to smile. “Now let’s go find the others.”

* * *

They find Quentin and Jane on a different generator than before. Jeff explains the situation, causing Quentin to, predictably, burst out in laughter.

“It’s _not fucking funny—_ ” Frank hisses.

“Oh my god I’m so done with this bullshit,” Jane sighs tiredly, pinching the bridge of her nose.

“What am I even supposed to do!?” Frank demands, crossing his arms and staring at the trio with barely concealed hatred.

“You’re supposed to help us out with wholesome magical teamwork!” Quentin beams, clearly getting off on his misery. “Or y’know, get mauled to death by the grizzly. Your choice.”

“Quentin, stop picking a fight and show Frank how to fix the gen. Me and Jane will handle the ones that are closer to the bear,” Jeff decides.

“ _Fuck no_ I ain’t staying with this cunt!” Frank exclaims, mortified.

“Works for me,” Quentin shrugs, ignoring Frank and merely offering a wave as Jeff and Jane take off.

After Frank reluctantly listens to Quentin’s half-assed instructions and crouches down to touch the generator in disgust, the annoying teen thankfully shuts up. For a while Frank tries his best to stay focused on the machine, his leg jumping in pent-up energy as his thoughts flutter between the threat of the bear, his rage for the Entity’s stunt, the uncertainty of what’s to come after this trial—

“Motherfucker!” Frank curses at the machine as it explodes under his hands.

“You know,” Quentin says absently, not even acknowledging his failure. “You should ditch the fugly mask more often. Makes you almost tolerable to look at,” he challenges with a smirk.

“Maybe you should have it, fuck knows you need it more with a mug like that,” Frank shoots back without missing a beat, ducking behind the generator to hide a grin. His foot stops twitching and he realizes it’s much easier to focus when he has someone to banter with.

* * *

Later, when the stupid generators are done and there’s no sign of the bear, they regroup with Jeff (ugh) and Jane ( _ugh_ ) in an already opened exit. Frank grimaces as Jeff tries to give him some cringy heartfelt compliment, before flipping Jane off when the woman tries to start an apology. Jane huffs in annoyance while Jeff merely chuckles, leading Jane into the exit, both of them disappearing into the void.

“I wonder what’s gonna happen once you get out,” Quentin muses, leaning against the gate panel and not seeming in any hurry to leave. “You think this was a one-off?”

“I sure fucking hope so,” Frank mutters, not eager to repeat this dumb practical joke of their eldritch captor.

“You didn’t actually do terrible today, rat boy,” Quentin quips with a grin.

“Says the raccoon,” Frank mutters, turning away as he feels his neck heating up from a single half-assed compliment. Where’s his fucking mask when you need it?

“Eh, raccoons are kinda cute. I’ll take it,” Quentin says, thankfully ignoring his embarrassment.

“More like stinky and a pain in the ass.”

”None of those are mutually exclusive,” Quentin jokes, before looking back into the snowy map in thought. “Going back for your mask still?” he asks, with barely concealed… worry?

”Nah, Susie’ll make another,” Frank remarks, ignoring the other’s sudden interest in his well-being.

“Maybe you should do this more often,” Quentin says. “Get rid of the mask and, y’know, stabbing. Might even make some friends.”

“I don’t need _friends_ ,” Frank scoffs. He has his Legion, why would he want to play family with the survivors?

Quentin—smirks?—which is definitely not the reaction Frank was anticipating. Frank suddenly realizes he’s been standing way too close to Quentin for acceptable bro-range and the other is looking at him with a mischievous glint in his eyes. Frank feels his face heat up and an insult dies on his tongue. Quentin opens his mouth to say something, but seems to notice something behind Frank as his eyes go comically wide.

“FUCK, THE BEAR!” Quentin yells and Frank _bear_ ly has time to turn around to see the massive animal come barreling towards them before Quentin is pulling on his jacket, making them both stumble and nearly trip over each other as they fall into the safety of the exit gate threshold.


End file.
